


Guardian

by kathkin



Series: Summerpornathon 2010 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For challenge 1 at the 2010 summerpornathon: temperance/trope grab!bag. Wing!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian

Arthur is dreaming.

He knows he is dreaming because of the angel. Everything is vague and formless except for the angel who stands in front of him, wings spread wide, soft and white and pearly-grey-blue-pink. He wants to touch, to run his fingers through the feathers, to bury his face in them like a child, but he does not, for he is not a child.

The angel has a curious look on his face as he glides forward.

“I know you,” he says.

“Are you an angel?” says Arthur.

“I don’t know,” says the angel. “Am I?”

His wings curl around Arthur protectively, like a mother bird. Arthur sinks into their embrace. Lets himself be held.

“Why are you so afraid?” says the angel.

“I’m not afraid,” Arthur says. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

The angel does not believe him. He slips his arms around Arthur’s waist and kisses him softly.

Arthur asks him again. “Are you an angel?”

“I’m yours,” says the angel.

And there it ends. He does not dream it again, but it haunts him.

–

A month later, Merlin blunders into his life, all awkward angles, and clumsiness and disobedience. He saves Arthur’s life. Arthur is smitten. He would never admit it, of course, but he is. He doesn’t even admit it to himself for what feels like forever.

Eventually, with a kind of inevitability, there is a feast, celebrating yet another narrow escape, and they fall into bed, drunk on adrenaline and each other and the sheer joy of being alive.

Arthur wakes in the night and can’t fall asleep again. He gets up and wanders restlessly around the room, stands and stares down at Merlin. He is curled up on his side, sweaty sheets crumpled around him. In the shadows and the moonlight, they look almost like wings.

Then Merlin mutters in his sleep, rolls over, and the illusion is broken.

–

 

Merlin’s eyes are very blue.

Arthur stands in the council chambers, stands before his father, and says _no_. He will not. He will not allow a child to be executed. He will not let his people starve. He will not let Camelot burn. He can feel Merlin’s eyes on him every time, even when he’s on the other side of the castle. He can see the look on Merlin’s face were he to back down, let his father have his way.

A year ago he wouldn’t have dared. Merlin has saved him in more ways than one.

–

By day Arthur is the prince and Merlin is his servant. They tease each other and fight monsters and pretend that they’re not even really friends. But every night they are equals.

It will go like this:

Merlin will ask, is there anything else I can do, or should I just go home?

Arthur will say, no, I’m alright.

Merlin will stand and twist his hands together and look awkward and beautiful. He will ask, are you sure?

And Arthur will kiss him. Or Merlin will kiss Arthur. Sometimes Arthur will press Merlin against the bed, hold him down, open and writhing. Sometimes he will lie back against the pillows and let Merlin take the lead, let him Merlin take him apart with his lips and his fingers and his tongue, then put him back together before dawn.

Afterwards they will lie curled around each other under the sheets. Merlin will slip his arms around Arthur’s waist and kiss him softly. Arthur will run his hands up and down Merlin’s back, feeling for something that isn’t there.

That is how it goes. Arthur never wants it to change.

–

It comes to an end one day, of course. Arthur is alone and afraid, far from Camelot, trapped inside a hill with a fae queen who wants to keep him for her own, keep him there forever, in the dark and the cold, never to see the sky again. The soul of a mortal prince, she says, bound to her land. She laughs.

And then there is Merlin. The hill cracks apart at his touch, light streaming in around him, so bright it hurts. His eyes are burning gold and angry and wild. Somewhere, the queen is screaming, fighting back, and Merlin is talking to her, or to Arthur, maybe.

Arthur doesn’t notice. The light around Merlin is like a halo. He can see them now, Merlin’s wings, great and dancing and golden, real and solid and insubstantial all at once. And Arthur _knows_. (He knows.)  



End file.
